


Of Blueflame and Whiskers

by lurlonde



Category: Warcraft (2016), Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Rating May Change, Slow Build, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 01:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7245853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lurlonde/pseuds/lurlonde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after the fall of King Llane, Anduin Lothar finds himself at the beckon of distress call of the dwarves in the far, far north of the world. The bonds between the Alliance tremble under the threat of the growing Horde, mages are shunned, and society grows fearful.</p><p>Unfortunately, temporary King or not, he must do what he can to settle any unrest amongst the people and keep the races of the Alliance together. Even if that means travelling a thousand miles with nothing but a couple of guardsmen and a bumbling Arch-mage beside him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Blueflame and Whiskers

**Author's Note:**

> words cant describe how happy i am to see liontrust growing. let me rise from my grave real quick to join yall
> 
> a few notes: mixing lore from the game and movie here. just pinching the dwarven civil war (which is pretty self explanatory). everything else is mostly the same.
> 
> also unbeta'd. thats about it. enjoy!

Deep inside the fortress of Stormwind Keep the drawing room was abuzz with voices, both authoritative and compliant. Men and women, clad in the mandatory Alliance blue and white armour stood crowded around an old table with a detailed, frayed map laid out in the centre, dotted with miniature stands of red and blue flags. Anduin Lothar was one of those men: standing tall at the end of the table, an aura of superiority surrounding his own armoured form. He simply watches as debates and protests fly across the table, along with the map being poked and prodded by objecting fingers.

By the Light, did Lothar detest this.

After the fall of King Llane around a year ago, Lothar had been taken up as the temporary ruler of Stormwind alongside his sister, the now-widowed Queen. Though Lothar didn't feel like he had a single royal bone in his body - not to mention it almost felt like sacrilege to become the King's replacement so quickly - he accepted the position with honour and pride, more than willing to do whatever it takes to keep the people of Stormwind, and the Alliance, together during this trying time.

With it, he had also embraced the King's duties to the kingdom: ambassadorial meetings with the other races of Azeroth, funding charities to the families that had lost, and signing paperwork. So much paperwork.

To be fair, even before he took up this role, he had been doing things like this for years. As a high commander in the Stormwind Army, it granted him enough duties by itself. For the amount of time he had spent in this same room, organising assaults and preparations of defence, he figured that it could not be all that different in the King's position.

He was wrong.

Even after months of it, Lothar still found it hard to come to a final judgement during discussions like these. Had he noticed how hard it was to keep track of squabbling lieutenants and advisers either side of him, he would have not have been so disruptive himself during previous planning sessions.

"While I respect that taking the valley between Loch Modan may be safer, might I add it would take a greater yield of resources and time to make way around the Khaz Mountains?" A new advisor argues, his greying, bushy eyebrows furrowing with every other word. 

"You would rather risk the safety of my men than sacrificing a bit of bread and water?" A commander responds, the man's bristly jaw jutting out in attempted intimidation.

The advisor splutters, but was quick to defend himself, "I did not mean it like that. All I was saying was-"

Lothar felt a vein threatening to pop.

Roughly three days ago, the dwarves of the Bronzebeard clan had sent an urgent message to Queen, detailing how a large encampment of renegade orcs had settled on the border between the Highlands and Hinterlands, terrorizing another clan of dwarves that had settled in the mountains of the far north, the Wildhammers. The report described slaughtering and burning of smaller villages on the outer skirts of the Wildhammer hub. The Bronzebeards could not spare any troops for their fellow dwarves due to being at war with other clans, thus had no other choice but to desperately plead for help. 

And here they were, high ranking men and women yelling their opinions into his ear all at once.

"Enough!" Lothar's voice thunders throughout the room, silencing every person within seconds. He pinches the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb, before inhaling and speaking, "We will take the path through Dun Morogh. While the danger of that route still remains," Lothar inclines his head towards the commander, "I'm sure your men can handle a hungry wolf or two, yes?"

The commander scrunches his nose, the man's handlebar moustache exaggerating his very disapproving frown. "Aye... That they can."

"Good." Lothar extended a finger to the thin inky line that represented the valley of Dun Algaz in the upper region of Dun Morogh. He traced it through the jagged shapes of the mountains and spoke, "The dwarves have made quick work of the passage between the mountains, securing it with stone so the chance of any avalanches or falling rocks will not pose a threat. There will most likely be dwarven encampments scattered along the road, therefore reinforcements would be nearby, no matter where we are." Looking up from the map, he realises every eye on the room is on him. He straightens his back and continues. "In this journey, we will take any risk we must to reach the Hinterlands as fast as possible. This is a very important quest for us. Once we prove ourselves trustworthy, reliable and strong, in return the other races will begin to bond as well. This is more than just a scouting mission. It's a statement."

Silent contemplation hung heavy in the air, an atmosphere of being thoroughly scolded.

"Sir, if I may." The advisor with the bushy eyebrows spoke up, "I understand what you mean, but I remain concerned about supplies. The landscape of Dun Morogh is cold and harsh, which means more blankets and food will be necessary to stay warm. However, this additional weight will also slow us down. Do you have any ideas for a solution to that?"

The advisor's tone help no scorn, just simply inquisitive. Lothar gives him a wry smirk. "You do not need to worry about that. I have someone on the job." The advisor gives Lothar a peculiar look, but bows his head and says no more. "Now. Once we reach the Wetlands, we make straight for the bridge..."

 

-*-

 

 It was later in the banquet hall that Lothar sits beside his sister, lounging on a cushioned chair while she sat on a throne.

"You _must_ be careful with this, Anduin. Many of our troops are still recovering from the Dark Portal, it would do not them good to be stretched thin once more. You'd do well to not send them to fight where one is not needed." Taria says, lifting a grape to her lips.

"I know, Taria." He had spent a long enough time with his sister to know that tone. Originally she had protested about him joining the escapade entirely, unwilling to let him into danger so soon after the loss of her beloved. He understood her worry. He had been that way with Callan when he first enlisted in the force, sent away to mission after mission, coming back with nothing but scars. He had thought of talking to his son about it, before...

Swallowing, Lothar goes to ask a question, but was suddenly interrupted by a fierce gust of wind that burst from the opposite end of the table. Without thinking, Lothar draws his sword and rushes to Taria's side, shielding her as the gale illuminated blue and a cloaked form materialized from thin air in the centre.

With a pop of glowing ashes the form became visible, and Khadgar's eyes met his.

Lothar tightened his lips and sheathes his sword with a sigh, barely containing a vulgar insult. "Khadgar. Glad to see you could join us."

"Ah, Arch-mage. Come, have a seat with us." Taria peers calmly round her brother's shoulder and gives the mage a gentle smile, seemingly unaffected by the situation. Khadgar returns the smile coupled with a bow and swiftly moves to take a seat opposite Lothar's. 

Khadgar politely declines an offer of wine. "My apologies for the delay. I had to cancel a meeting I had apparently scheduled a month ago, since I assumed it was a matter of imminence." The queen nods and sips from her goblet delicately. Taria began to explain to the mage what had transpired between the orcs and the dwarven clans, alongside Lothar's plan of attack and route to the Hinterlands. Lothar noticed that she avoided mentioning what Khadgar's purpose was with mild amusement.

"I see." Khadgar nods his head slowly, pondering on the information given. "But why travel? I'm sure there are local mages who would be willing to help portal the soldiers there. With enough magi your entire squadron could be there within-"

"No." Lothar says and drinks from his wine cup. Khadgar's brows furrow as he narrows his eyes at the warrior.

"Why not?"

"Why do you think? Perhaps after a certain war that was caused by magic itself, the troops might not be willing to be involved with it after that incident. Too soon to be scratching an old wound."

"Well, then they're being ridiculous. Fel magic is near impossible to be wielded by any ordinary-"

"Ridiculous?" Lothar scoffs and leans forward. His respect for the mage was beginning to dwindle. "You've seen how easily it corrupts yourself. I thought Medivh's death would have been a pointer as to why the kingdom is so afraid your kind."

"Anduin." His sister's voice commands as quick as a whip, silencing him. Lothar draws back with his lip curled in snarl. He knew he was being defensive, but he had every right to. Magic was unreliable, catastrophic. This kingdom needed as much solidarity as it could get, but the fact that this naive, young man was Arch-mage and had sway over decisions threatened that very necessity with his notions.

He still feels a stab of guilt, ashamed in his anger from using an old friend to portray a bad example. He should'nt have done that.

Taria shoots a small disapproving stare at Lothar, obviously displeased at his outburst. Resettling herself, she speaks: "What he means by that is the people are afraid, Khadgar. Before the opening Dark Portal, the world of magic was a mystery to a large portion of our society; they had never witnessed more than a vagabond's charm. But after the battle, they caught a glimpse of it. A glimpse of the horror, destruction, and chaos it could bring." Khadgar lifts his gaze from the table to meet the Queens, still crestfallen. "It's not that your particular school is evil. You are a brave, generous wizard destined for greatness and I do not doubt that. But-" She shakes her head. "I cannot speak for the people. They do not yet have a reason to trust you."

The wizard is quiet for a moment.

"Then, what would you have me do? If not for my transportation."

Lothar smirks at his sister.

"Well," she starts, ignoring his smug look, "I did not say we had no use for them, exactly."

 

-*-

 

"You want me to be a _delivery boy?_ " Khadgar exclaims as he trails behind Lothar in the hall.

"Yes." 

"I- Well, I see why it would certainly be helpful if someone where to bring rations in on a daily basis, but what for? Could you not stock up before you depart as a normal mission would?"

"Because this is not just about saving the dwarves." Lothar stops and turns to face the mage. "Do you not see?"

Khadgar shakes his head, puzzled. "See what?"

Sighing, Lothar clenches his fist. He was losing his patience. "Trust, Khadgar. We are building trust."

Lothar waits, searching Khadgar's face for any sense of realisation. It seemed like it wasn't happening any time soon, so he continues. "Were you evening listening to the Queen? When she said the people are afraid of magic, that did not mean that they could not be convinced otherwise. This mission is an example, Khadgar, not just for the Alliance, but for you."

"How so?"

"By supporting our soldiers, your worth and dedication to it's safety will be put on full display to the kingdom. And in effect, trust one magi, and the rest will follow."

It takes a few seconds, but Khadgar's owlish eyes widen. "Oh."

Lothar huffs a laugh at the young man's incompetence and raises his eyebrows at him. "Get it now?"

"Yeah. Yeah I do."

"Good." He claps Khadgar on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble and carries on his walk. "Be off now. We leave at second day's light."

He can almost feel the incredulous look from the mage. "Wait, so soon? I haven't even packed yet."

Lothar shouts back, "You'd best be swift then," and heads back to his chambers. Gods know he needed the rest.

Though, much to Lothar's dismay, the day came faster than he anticipated. By dawn, the troops were rallied in groups of four by the city's gate, a small ocean of silver and blue helmets. There was once a time where there would be hundreds of soldiers at the ready, each indispensable and trained to the teeth, but things in the world had changed. Now, there stood only a dozen or so, the title of warrior still a new weapon they had yet to learn how to master.

Of course, there stood veterans amongst them as well. It was saddening to think that most them were survivors of the battle at the Portal, a fresh generation of veterans to replace those that had been slaughtered by the orcs. They had ascended the ranks days within their return. It crippled Lothar to think how fast the position was forced upon them; much like himself. Despite it, he would accept what he could have, and held his faith within them - it was all he had to offer, aside from his sword and shield.

Luckily for Lothar, he had risen hours prior to the gathering at the gate. Sleep not offering him much but fitful dreams, he left the comforts of his bed when the sky was barely twilight. He busied himself with storing personal belongings in bags light enough for mules to burden, sharpening his sword and bracing himself for the journey ahead. As the sun reared itself upon the horizon, Lothar decided it was time, and headed towards out to group with the soldiers.

 

-*-

 

The morning was into full swing before Lothar knew it. Final preparations were bring made as he was mounted upon his horse, reviewing with an assembly of officers. 

 "Pardon me, sir. The Arch-mage wishes to speak with you." The guardswoman catches Lothar's attention, and points to back of the crowd of townsfolk that had begun to accumulate. 

Anduin nods and dismisses her, then trots over to him.

"I hope you haven't forgotten anything." Lothar teases, watching the mage fumble with the rucksack on his pony.

"Thankfully not. Ah," Khadgar reaches into his pocket and pulls out a smooth pebble. "I forgot to give you this to you, however."

Lothar stares at the rock. "What is it?"

"A chipping of a meeting stone. It allows me to portal to where you are at any time; as long as you have it with you."

Lothar tucks it away in his satchel. "And you didn't think to give it to me earlier?"

"You didn't really give me much notice." Khadgar grunts as he climbs onto his own pony. Lothar reluctantly admits to himself that had been marginally harsh to not warn the mage sooner.

"Sorry."

Khadgar settles himself on the horse. "No worries, and Lothar."

Lothar looks up at the mention of his name.

"If you lose it, I might not be able to find you again." He was giving Lothar that look again. "Keep it safe. Please."

Lothar grips his satchel, and gives him a firm nod, "I will." Following his reply, he draws his horses reins and canters it through the crowd.

The afternoon was drawing quickly upon them, and Lothar began to send orders left and right for the troops to say their last farewells and the commanders to form the front line. Soon, everything was set. The folk that had come to see the march began tossing multi-coloured petals from the roofs of the nearby houses. The flora swirled and danced in the wind like winter's snow, painting a picture of finality and grace.

Lothar clears his throat, and begins his speech. The crowd hushes at once, the vibrations of his sonorous voice rebounding through the district. He talks of peace and prosperity between the races of Azeroth, heart strengthening with each pair of hopeful eyes upon him. He declares a strive for equality between all races and classes, sparing a passing glance at the young mage loitering behind a lieutenant. He notices his gaze, and tilts his head in return. Lothar spares him a small smirk.

Coming to end of his sentence, he turns his horse to the towering gates of Stormwind, and cries:

"For the Alliance!"

"For the Alliance!" The people cry with him. Then, with a kick to his steed's side, he spurs it into motion and leads his army to the world beyond. 

 

-*-

 

 


End file.
